He used to love the rain
by FFabeonG
Summary: Believe it or not, Mycroft used to love the rain. He used to spend quality time with Sherlock. He used to visit a secret den with his two best friends. He used to not be "The Ice-Man". So what happened to change all this? The reason, I'm afraid, is all set to break your heart...


He used to love the rain

The date was Saturday, May the 14th. International Pi day, actually, but at that point, the ten-year-old boy standing outside in the pouring rain didn't care. Mycroft Holmes loved the rain, plain loved it, from the noises it made hitting his bedroom window, to the smell of the soaked grass and the way it would trickle through his dark gingery curls and down his neck.

"Mymy! Mymy!" The young voice he knew well was calling from the kitchen window, and Mycroft reluctantly lowered his head and opened his eyes. His three-year-old brother waved from the window and called him again. "Mymy! Pie bake pleeeease?!"

"Coming, Sherlock!" Mycroft chuckled and went inside to, as he had promised, bake a pie with his brother and not just any pie, but a chocolate pie, their favourite. Soon, their mother came through and laughed at the sight of Sherlock sitting crossed-legged on the kitchen counter as innocently as possible, but nearly covered in flour and with chocolate around his mouth while Mycroft actually made the pie and also tried not to laugh at his brother's antics.

A good deal of cleaning up later, the pie was finally in the oven and Sherlock's face cleaned up while he and Mycroft helped 'tidy up' the remaining chocolate, when suddenly the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." Mummy Holmes took the risk of leaving her two children unsupervised for a minute, but they could clearly hear her voice. "Oh hello dear!" She exclaimed cheerfully "What? You're going to your den again? Alright, yes, he can go."  
Mycroft had already jumped off the counter when his mum called,

"Mikey! Your friend's here for you!"

"Coming!" Mycroft called gleefully, but Sherlock pouted,

"No go, Mymy!"

"Sorry, Sherlock. I'll be back soon, ok?"

"Promise?"

"Promise." Mycroft grabbed his shorter coat and rushed to the hall, glad to see his friend Tian waiting in the doorway, blond hair a mess as usual and his skateboard in hand. "Bye Mummy!" Mycroft hugged his mother goodbye and darted out to grab his bike and head to the den with Tian.

"Be careful, boys!" Mummy Holmes called after them, with a pointed look at the lack of a helmet on Tian's head, but as soon as the door closed, Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"As if we're not careful!" He grinned and Tian laughed.

"When are we not?" He kicked his skateboard to the ground and hopped on, waiting for Mycroft to mount his bike. "Ready?"

"Sure." The two boys set off down the street and towards the town playground, but before they got there, they took a sharp left down a dirt but fairly level track that lead to the forest paths. "Is Marty already there?" Mycroft asked as they neared their destination.

"Probably." The blond shrugged "We crossed paths when I was coming to get you."

"His parents aren't fighting again, are they?"

"I don't know, I'm not you, Croft!" Tian shrugged. None of the three friends called each other by their actual names, but Tian and Marty were the only people to ever make a nickname out of the second half of Mycroft's name. As they spoke, the boys drew up to a halt under one of the trees overlooking the large pond, which anyone could drown in.

But up in the branches was a sturdy platform made of branches and rope, and it was this that Tian and Mycroft scrambled up the tree to, glad to see the third member of their group waiting.

"You took ages, didn't you?" Marty greeted them, his accented voice loud and cheerful.

"Apologies." Mycroft replied, sarcasm ringing in his tone. The three boys sat on the platform, Tian swinging his rucksack off his back to unpack the drinks and snacks and Marty absent-mindedly picked at the chip in the wood. Mycroft looked over at him.

"Are they fighting again?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah." Marty replied despondently. "They always are these days. I swear, there'll be a divorce before the year's out."  
Tian suddenly looked up and asked, "Hey have you guys heard the rumour that Mrs Evens is splitting with her boyfriend?"

"That's no rumour, that's true!" Mycroft pointed out.

"How do you know?" Marty grabbed a biscuit.

"Well when someone turns up early to school having left their house in a hurry, it's no great achievement to say that they don't want to be around whoever they live with. Added to the other signs, it's obvious." Mycroft explained, to which the other two grinned and chorused,

"Only to you, Croftie!"

"Hey!" The boys dissolved into laughter and they stayed there up in the tree for over an hour, talking and laughing and joking, until Mycroft said he had to go.

"Sherlock will be going mental, or Mummy will for that matter."

"Siblings, 'ay?" Tian rolled his eyes, knowing full well what having younger siblings was like. He had three younger sisters, and regularly complained about them to his two sympathetic friends. Marty stuck his tongue out cheekily; being an only child, he often found their plights hilarious. The three of them scrambled down the tree and bid their goodbyes when they reached the street again.

"If anything else happens," Mycroft laid a hand on Marty's shoulder

"You come straight to mine or Tian's, got it?"

"I will, Croftie." Marty chuckled as he looked down towards his house, then looked back at his friends. "Thanks guys. You really are my best friends."

"We're here for you, Marty." Tian nodded "It's us three who'll stick together."

"Absolutely." Mycroft nodded as well and the three boys walked, skated, and cycled home to parents, mother and sisters, and a brother.

Then a nearly a week later, everything changed forever.  
It seemed like an ordinary Friday morning and maths class was already well underway when the headmaster knocked on the door of the classroom and leaned round the door, looking very severe.

"Apologies, Miss Evens, could I borrow these two?" He motioned to Croft and Marty. The teacher nodded and the two boys got to their feet, glancing at each other as they grabbed their bags and followed the headmaster to his office. There were already two chairs set out in front of Mr Taylor's and he waited until the boys were sat before leaning forward and speaking in an unusually gentle voice.

"I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, boys." He said "But I have to be honest. This morning there was a serious car crash on Dew Street and your good friend was in one of the cars." He paused, but forced himself on. "I'm very sorry, to both of you. The ambulance and hospital did all they could, but they couldn't save him-"

"He's dead." Marty's voice was hollow to begin with, but grew louder and harsher. "Our best friend, Sebastian Moran- our Tian- is dead?!"

"I'm sorry-"

"That doesn't change it!" Marty yelled, pain evident in his cry. "It doesn't change a damn thing! He's dead and all you can say is sorry!?"

As Marty's cries grew ever more furious, Mycroft sat where he was, frozen as he tried to understand the horrible feeling ripping through him, crippling his very soul. He had never felt this kind of pain before and it was hurting him to the very core. Marty was screaming now, no longer directing his words at anyone in particular. "Why him?! Why Tian and not anyone else?! I would rather everyone in this entire school died instead!" At this point, the door opened, and both Mrs Holmes and Marty's mother came in, the latter immediately rushing to control her screaming son. Mrs Holmes stood where she was for a minute, looking at her eldest son. A tear had welled up in Mycroft's eye and he was shaking badly, unused to the crushing feeling consuming him.

He was in such shock he didn't notice his mother gently taking his hand and leading him to the car. Mycroft never noticed when they reached home, how his mother carried him up to his room and placed him on his bed before sitting there for a while, trying to get him to speak or do anything.  
This silent grief was dangerous, she knew, but nothing she did showed any change in her son. When she finally left, Mummy Holmes hadn't shut the door before someone slipped through, rushed to the bed, and scrambled up beside Mycroft. Sherlock didn't say anything, just wrapped his skinny arms around him as much as he could and buried his face into his brother's shoulder.

Less than a minute passed before the younger Holmes heard a soft choking noise and raised his head to see Mycroft's face crumpling as he broke down into wracked sobs of grief. Sherlock, not knowing what to say, hugged Mycroft tighter and tried to wipe the tears off his face, just like Mycroft did the times Sherlock had nightmares. All throughout this, one thought pierced Mycroft's mind: these tears are like the rain. The two Holmes brothers stayed like that for hours, but it's fair to say that the course of history was already changed. 

You probably know the rest yourself; from that day on, Mycroft began to build walls around himself, taught himself to banish emotion, locking Croft deep within his mind, along with the memories of his friends that had always made him happy and came to swear that he would never let sentiment touch him again. And you remember his comparison of tears to rain? That evening Mycroft dug an old umbrella out of his cupboard and would never willingly let the rain soak him if he could help it.  
And yet his relationship with Sherlock remained relatively unchanged, the brothers openly loved each other until...well, that a story for another time.

And Marty? What became of him? His prediction was right, unfortunately, his parents separated before the year was out, and he left the school to live with his mother in London. Like Mycroft, his mentality changed beyond recognition over the years and he too discarded the nickname his only friends had used.  
Moriarty would never shorten his last name again.


End file.
